Love Next Door (Lakeside #1) by Helena Hunting

The tiny cabin creaks with the howling wind, but it’s warmer and drier in here than it is out there.

“What the hell is this place?” Van turns on the flashlight on his phone and moves it around the room, his expression a mix of curiosity, confusion, and trepidation.

“It’s an old hunting cabin.”

The place doesn’t have much in the way of space or furniture. There’s an old rusted-out bunk bed with waterproof mattresses covering the bunks and rolled-up sleeping bags set on top. Everything is roughed in; there’s no drywall, just boards and wooden studs. In the corner is a small table and two chairs. An old Coke crate is turned upside down to function as a kind of counter, holding a small washbasin.

“It hasn’t changed since the last time I was here.”

“This looks like the set of a slasher movie. Did you toss the bodies of poor unsuspecting vacationers in the lake when you were done with them?”

I roll my eyes. “The only thing that’s died in here are probably some mice, and a lot of flies.” At least judging from the extensive network of cobwebs lining the ceiling, almost like insulation. “I used to come here when I was a teenager and wanted to escape the world. I’d bring sleeping bags—not so I could sleep here, but the mattresses are foam covered in plastic and not very comfortable.”

“What did you do when you were here? Is this, like, a teenager love shack? Did you bring your boyfriend here?”

I snort. “No. I came here alone. I was the only one who knew about it. And I used to read or write in a journal. Very typical teenage-girl things.”

“Huh.” He tucks his hands in his pockets. “Are there lights in this place?”

I chuckle. “No, Van. No lights. This is as rustic as it gets out here. Makes my trailer look like a luxury resort, huh?” There’s bite in my words, mostly because I’m still miffed that his friend called me trailer trash.

“Your trailer is retro.”

I give him a look that he probably can’t see thanks to the lack of lighting in here. “There’s duct tape holding some of the windows together.”

“Have you seen Bee’s cottage? When I first got here, I almost fell through the deck.”

“I guess that explains the hammering at ten at night.”

“I figured I should fix it before someone got a board in the face.”

We listen to the rain batter the roof. Drops fall from the ceiling onto the top of the bunk bed, which explains the water pooling there. It’s musty and dank, but at least it’s mostly dry.

I pull out a chair and run a finger across the seat. It’s covered in a thick layer of dust, but I’m already wearing sand from the beach and this outfit is destined for the wash, so I drop into it anyway.

He pulls out the other chair and makes a face but sits down. “What’s the deal with that Tucker guy? The one in real estate. You two a thing?”

“He’s my high school ex. I’d rather drink shots of vinegar than be in a thing with him again.”

Van props his elbows on the table and folds his hands together so he can rest his chin on them. “So he’s local?”

“Yeah. As local as they get.”

He nods. “I think I might remember him from when I used to visit in the summers. Maybe I saw him around town? Or at the beach parties. Like this one.”

“It’s likely. He went to a lot of them.”

He tips his head to the side. “With you?”

“Not usually.”

“Hmm.”

“Hmm, what?” The way he’s looking at me is unnerving.

“I find that interesting, is all. So there’s no chance you’re getting back together with him?”

“Why would you ask me that?”

“Just curious, I guess. He was once your type.”

“Well, he’s not anymore.” I can’t tell if he’s trying to push my buttons or what right now.

He nods once and looks away, eyes skimming over the cabin before they land on me. “That’s good. You deserve better than that jackass.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“I don’t have to know you to know it’s the truth. Besides, Grammy Bee always had nice things to say about you, and I trust her judgment.”

I smile at that. “She couldn’t stand Tucker. She probably asked me a million times what the heck I was doing with him.”

“What were you doing with him?”

I shrug. “Passing time, I guess. Everyone knows everyone around here, so he would’ve been hard to avoid. I shouldn’t have kept taking him back, but my friends were dating his friends at the time, and it was easier to turn a blind eye than to make a thing out of it.”

Van makes a face. “Weren’t there other options?”

“You mean like other guys I could have dated? Sure. But I never planned to come back here, and dating someone who I’d actually get attached to didn’t seem like a good idea, so I dated Tucker.”

“That seems . . .”

“Shallow?” I supply.

“Calculated was more the word I was looking for.”

I nod my agreement. “It was calculated. If I’d dated a nice guy who treated me well, then I might have been less inclined to move to Chicago. Around here people tend to settle down early. Half of the girls I went to high school with had promise rings before they were even legally allowed to vote.”